Charter school students use critical thinking skills to call out the mess of their school’s closure

I know there’s such a thing as Philly math — “Things that only make sense to us, the people who grew up here,” according to Stephanie Powley, the TikToker who recently invented the phrase.

But even by those quirky calculations, the news last week that Mathematics, Civics and Sciences Charter School would close at the end of the school year — and send hundreds of families scrambling — doesn’t add up.

In an announcement that shocked teachers, students, and parents, the Center City school’s founder and chief administrative officer, Veronica Joyner, essentially said she was sick (of dealing with the Philadelphia School District’s Charter Schools Office) and tired (the 73-year-old says she works more than 12 hours a day, seven days a week).

Thus, she was retiring, and because she didn’t think anyone was willing or able to do the job, she’d turn the lights out on her way out. I’d say long live the queen, but even queens have people to replace them.

Look, I get that charter schools operate under different rules — although as schools funded by our money, I’m not sure they should. But whether you’re a charter school or a magnet or a good old-fashioned neighborhood school, one thing should remain consistent, and that’s putting students first.

This move feels like anything but.

Behind Joyner’s questionable calculus, there may be other reasons driving the abrupt closure of the Center City charter.

The school, which opened in 1999 and educates about 900 students in first through 12th grade, had been cited for academic and operational deficiencies and was about to be offered a one-year charter renewal by the district, rather than the usual five-year term. It has also been accused in the past by some parents of using exclusionary practices.

Joyner was “insulted” by the one-year renewal offer, but rather than buckle down as students everywhere are expected to do when told that their work needs improvement, she bailed. Imagine a public school principal’s retirement party also meaning the shuttering of their school.

Because math has never been my strong suit, I figured I must be missing something. Maybe I forgot to carry the “Oh, that explains it” or dropped an “I get it now” while trying to make sense of this decision. Surely there was a succession plan?

“There is a succession plan,” Joyner insisted when we talked. But when I asked for details, she didn’t offer anything other than repeating that no one could do the job as she’s done it over the years and that the school is closing.

The weight of educating Philadelphia’s students shouldn’t sit on her shoulders, she told me during a conversation that was at times confusing and exasperating.

“If some of those parents had come in to volunteer or donated some checks to the school, I might have lasted another two years,” she said.

Curiously, no one’s ever mentioned money was a problem. Same with staff shortages.

“It’s time to stop using me and stop using me as the only school in Philadelphia,” she continued. “I am one school, one person, and they should demand that other schools are on this level.” If you don’t know what that means, that makes two of us.

In fact, Joyner continued, she should be thanked for her service. And on many levels, she should: Joyner helped build a school that clearly means a lot, to a lot of people. One where, she told me, graduates have gone on to great success in their chosen fields. She deserves to enjoy her retirement and bask in her legacy. But in order to leave behind a legacy, one has to take the steps necessary to preserve it for generations to come.

So she might have to wait on that appreciation.

I was ready to at least give the school credit for teaching students vital critical thinking skills, but Malayah Nelson-Harris, a junior at the school, said she honed the ability to see through nonsense all on her own.

The day after the announcement, she was one of hundreds of students who walked out of class to call attention to their plight and to make clear they weren’t buying the story they were being told.

“The school is closing because she doesn’t want anyone else to run it?” Nelson-Harris said.

She was justifiably incredulous, but by the time we talked, she had resigned herself to a lesson a lot of young people in our city learn early: Too often, they are negatively impacted by decisions that adults make in their name. And usually, they have little say in the matter.

Nelson-Harris is now focused on finding another school that could help prepare her for college, and then a job in the medical field.

Her pragmatism impressed and saddened me. Students in our city are already expected to put up with so much: contaminated water, dilapidated buildings, and a substandard education. And now, an educator’s oversized ego.

Philly math or not, that does not compute.